The Trap of Disconnection: How Loneliness is Quietly Harming Our Health and Our Humanity

We don’t talk enough about how much things changed after COVID.

Not just the obvious changes like mask mandates, Zoom fatigue, supply chain issues. I mean the deeper stuff. The way we relate to each other. The way we show up (or don’t) for our communities. The growing silence between what we feel and what we express. The way disconnection has gone from an emergency measure to a normalized habit. The truth is, it’s hurting us more than we realize.

We are social creatures. Human connection is not a luxury, it’s a biological necessity. Touch, laughter, eye contact, shared experiences....these are the things that literally regulate our nervous systems. Studies show that positive social connection triggers the release of oxytocin, reduces cortisol (stress), strengthens immunity, and supports cardiovascular health. When we don’t have enough of it, we start to fray at the edges (Holt-Lunstad, 2024).

Since the pandemic, those edges have only gotten sharper.

A 2022 report from the World Health Organization noted a 25% increase in the prevalence of anxiety and depression globally (WHO, 2022). Women and young people were hit hardest. People with preexisting conditions like asthma, cancer, and heart disease were also significantly more likely to experience mental health challenges. A comprehensive review of global data showed increased risks of suicide and self-harm among youth, and greater severity of symptoms in women.

But even beyond the statistics, many of us feel it. The conversations that don’t go as deep. The invitations that don’t get returned. The events that feel too exhausting to attend. The instinct to withdraw. The fear of being too much, or not enough. The hesitation to reach out, because you don’t want to be a burden or worse, be ignored.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I was born in the 80s, raised in the 90s, and became an adult in the early 2000s. I graduated high school in 2003 and went into the military. Back then, connection felt more organic. Even though we lived out in the country, I was willing to walk through the cow pasture to play Go Fish with my grandma or hang out with my grandpa. I would walk up the hill, about a half mile or so from home, to meet up with the nearest neighbor kids. I was almost always surrounded by people (being the oldest of 6 it was hard not to be lol). When I needed time alone, I would climb to the top of a tree with a book but I always came back down and into the fold.

In the military, connection was still central. I was the president of our booster club. We built morale through barbecues, family days, dunk tanks, shared laughter. I don’t just remember the events, I remember the people.

But after COVID, that changed.

We moved from New England to South Carolina months after the restrictions were lifted. In the beginning, we opened our doors. We hosted neighbors and tried to recreate that sense of connection. For a while, it seemed possible. But slowly, people stopped showing up. They moved away and new neighbors arrived, but didn’t introduce themselves. I now live in a neighborhood with close to 100 houses and only know five names.

I don’t hear backyard laughter. I don’t smell grills. I don’t hear music or kids running around. We’re all living here but somehow not living with one another. Even when I try to connect, through hosting events or joining classes, most people stay on their phones, don’t talk, and don’t engage. Even the community group I started with over 300 members only has a handful of consistent participants. This group was made after hearing the call of many who stated their loneliness and disconnection plainly. Yet, despite offering the opportunity for connection with likeminded people, the opportunities go largely ignored.

I don’t know how we got here, and I don’t know how to fix it. But I want to. That’s what this post is about. Trying to name what’s happening so that maybe, just maybe, we can begin to shift it. Because, if we really want to live healthy lives supported with good habits, we need a community...we need each other.

Julianne Holt-Lunstad’s  2024 study, Social Connection as a Critical Factor for Mental and Physical Health, sheds light on how severe the impact really is (Holt-Lunstad, 2024). Her findings? 

Social disconnection is just as dangerous to health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day. 

It's an independent predictor of mental and physical decline, and yet, we rarely treat it with the same urgency. Holt-Lunstad urges that the long-term consequences of the pandemic and the growing influence of digital technologies are accelerating this crisis. We are more isolated than ever, and less equipped to deal with the emotional, physical, and societal fallout.

Here’s the insidious part: disconnection feeds disconnection.

It’s like a trap door. You pull away to protect yourself because vulnerability feels risky. You stop reaching out because the silence hurts. You convince yourself that isolation is safer, more convenient, even preferable. At first, maybe it is. But over time, it hardens. It becomes a pattern, a norm, or a wound that never quite heals.

Unfortunately, it’s also being reinforced by culture.

We live in a world where productivity is praised above all else. Where taking time to be with your community is often framed as inefficient. Where rest is seen as laziness. Where asking for help is equated with weakness and where hyper-individualism (“handle it yourself, tough it out, pull yourself up”) is sold as empowerment.

But connection isn’t weakness.
Connection is a survival skill.

In fact, Summa Health published an article in December 2023 outlining five surprising health benefits to socializing (Hubbard, 2023):

  1. Boosts mood and reduces stress: Socializing reduces symptoms of depression and anxiety through the release of endorphins.

  2. Improves quality of life: Connection increases self-esteem and a sense of belonging.

  3. Reduces risk for chronic disease: Loneliness triggers stress responses that worsen physical health.

  4. Slows cognitive decline: Social interaction keeps neural pathways active and strong.

  5. Encourages healthier habits: You're more likely to eat well, move more, and care for yourself when you're surrounded by supportive people.

Now we’re learning something else:

Social media doesn’t count.

Kaiser Permanente published an article in 2025 highlighting that passive social media use often increases feelings of loneliness and comparison, rather than reducing them (Kaiser Permanente, 2025). The act of scrolling without genuine engagement can reduce self-esteem and increase self-judgment. The curated highlight reels we consume only intensify feelings of inadequacy and isolation. In fact, Dr. Michael Torres explains that the more time spent passively on social media, the worse people tend to feel. It doesn’t replace the power of real, embodied interaction: eye contact, shared laughter, and unfiltered conversation.

Another article on social media and mental health (Bounds, 2024) further highlighted the impact:

  • Filters and appearance-focused content contribute to poor self-image.

  • Social comparison heightens FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) and depression.

  • Cyberbullying and harassment are major risks for youth and adults alike.

  • Dopamine-based addiction patterns lead to unhealthy validation cycles.

  • Screen time is displacing real-world connection and social skills, especially among teens.

We’ve been sold the illusion of connection through screens, but the body knows better.

In Ayurveda, we speak of Ojas (pronounced Oh-jus), the vital essence that sustains life. It’s built not only through food, but also through what we take in energetically: our thoughts, our conversations, our relationships. Ojas is nourished when we are in loving community, when we laugh, when we touch, and when we feel safe enough to be seen.

Connection Builds Ojas

Here’s the metaphor that really helped me make sense of it:

Social media connection is like junk food. It’s engineered to satisfy the craving without providing true nourishment. It gives the illusion of fullness but leaves the body—and heart—starving for what really matters. It’s like living off a box of microwaved Velveeta shells and cheese: fast, easy, maybe comforting for a moment, but ultimately depleting.

In-person connection is organic food. It nourishes Ojas. It supports immunity, strengthens our minds, balances our emotions, and grounds us in presence. Unlike the $5 bag of baby carrots at the store, this nourishment doesn’t have to be expensive or rare. It can be found in a conversation, a shared meal, or a spontaneous laugh.

We’ve been sold the illusion of connection through screens, but the body knows better.

In Ayurveda, we speak of Ojas (pronounced Oh-jus), the vital essence that sustains life. It’s built not only through food, but also through what we take in energetically: our thoughts, our conversations, our relationships. Ojas is nourished when we are in loving community, when we laugh, when we touch, and when we feel safe enough to be seen.

Connection builds Ojas.

That hug? That laugh? That long conversation over tea? That’s medicine.

Just like the Bhagavad Gita reminds us, lasting peace doesn’t come from chasing external desires, it comes from resting in the stillness within and recognizing our shared humanity. As Krishna teaches,

“He who sees the self in all beings and all beings in the self, such a man of wisdom does not feel any hatred.”

So this week, I want to gently challenge you to take one step toward reconnection. Nothing big. Just… something.

Connection practice:

  • Compliment a passing stranger.

  • Call your friend instead of just texting them.

  • Invite someone for coffee (and actually make a plan).

  • Tell someone you appreciate them and why.

  • Ask someone how they really are and listen.

The world doesn’t need more perfection. It needs more people reaching out.

If you're looking for a place to start, I'm holding that space here.
You are not alone.
We are not meant to be alone.

References

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